


Let's Get in Formation (I Like My Baby Hair and Afros)

by elphaba_swan



Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Descendants (Disney Movies), The Little Mermaid - All Media Types
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Racism, Racist Language, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elphaba_swan/pseuds/elphaba_swan
Summary: "I don't work with slave hair.""Excuse me?"*****"Come on. I know a better place.""Where?"The morning after Uma's world is upended by Mal, she tries to fix her hair.





	Let's Get in Formation (I Like My Baby Hair and Afros)

**Author's Note:**

> I know in Rise of the Isle of the Lost they said that Uma's favorite salon is the Curl Up and Dye, but I'm calling bullshit on that one.

Drizella Tremaine sneers at Uma, lifting up a strand of hair contemptuously. “I don’t work with your kinds hair,” she says dismissively, flicking the hair away as though it has offended her.

“Excuse me?” Uma snaps, glaring up at the older woman. She’s already regretting coming here, and it isn’t only because Drizella’s own hair looks like a dead poodle on top of her head. There are customers staring and whispering about her hair, and she really wants to put the wrap back around her head.

She’s never been inside the Curl Up and Dye before and ordinarily she would have asked her mother to fix her hair, but when she had, Ursula had taken a swig of cough syrup and told her that after her weakness, she deserved to live with her shame.

“I can’t work with your hair,” Drizella says slowly, enunciating every word as if Uma’s an idiot. “It’s utterly ruined, and besides,” her pink-painted lips curl up into a mocking smile. “I don’t work with nigra hair."

All of the air rushes out of Uma’s chest, and she thought that nothing in the world could hurt her anymore after having her best friend betray her, but no, it turns out that this white woman and her disgust at Uma’s existence can still affect her.

The customers are mostly silent, but Uma sees a few of them nodding in approval of what Drizella has said, and while no one is looking at her with outright hostility, she knows that if she stays, her blood will be spilled on the floor.

So she turns on her heel and walks out of the shop, head held high, and staring straight ahead. The air is bracingly cold as she steps outside, and it stings her eyes as Drizella’s words echo through her head, mixing with Ursula’s slurred insults. _Stupid girl, you should have just let the faerie bitch die, but you were weak, you have always been weak -_

Uma isn’t paying attention to where she’s going, so when she bumps into someone, she doesn’t even notice at first until brown hands snatch at her.

“Move the fuck out of my way little - oh, it’s you,” Harriet Hook frowns down at her, sky-blue eyes taking in the girl that her little brother has become inseparable from. She’s heard all about what happened at the docks yesterday, and given the gash on her cheek and the bruising around her eye, Ursula had really let Uma have it. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Uma mutters sullenly, digging the toe of her worn-out shoe into the ground. Harriet’s one of the only people that she respects, because she doesn’t take shit from anyone, and at twelve years old, she’s already made a name for herself by stealing one of her father’s ships and making a crew.

But right now, she just wants to set something on fire. Preferably that mess on Drizella’s head. That would wipe the smirk off of that condescending bitch’s face.

“Right,” Harriet scoffs, and she reaches out and grabs a strand of Uma’s hair. It’s cold and oily as it slips through her fingers, and she wipes her hand on her skirt afterwards. “Fuck, Mal really did a number on your hair, didn’t she?”

“Fuck off,” Uma growls, and Harriet laughs.

“So what are you doing here?” Uma’s eyes flicker towards the sign of the Curl Up and Dye, and Harriet understands. “Aw hon, did no one tell you that Drizella Tremaine’s a giant fucking racist?” Harriet sneers at the shop door as Uma stares at her. “Yeah, she refused to even let me in there, but when little Calista Jane toddled in there, she was all over the brat, petting her hair and calling her ‘darling’ and shit.”

Uma’s shoulders slump, and for a minute, Harriet sees herself, a girl with with the weight of the world on her shoulders, who has been going through hell for a while now with no reprieve. And she will deny this to her grave, but there is a twinge of sympathy in her voice when she says, “Come on, I know a better place.”

“Where?” Uma asks doubtfully.

“Your cousin’s place. He’s surprisingly good at cutting hair for a dude.” Harriet turns around and starts striding towards the other side of the Isle, and Uma is forced to run in order to catch up with her.

She’s never actually met any of her cousins in person, only heard her Aunt Morgana bitch about them when she shows up to the Chip Shoppe once a month to yell at her mom and go drinking together at Gaston’s pub.

Harriet walks up to one of the shanty houses and raps on the door sharply, hand on her hip.

The door creaks open to reveal a thin boy with a pink scarf wrapped around his head, wearing olive overalls. He glances at Harriet, then when he sees Uma, his eyes widen.

“Who is it?” Morgana’s yell floats down from the stairs.

“No one!” the boy calls, then turns back to Harriet. “Stay quiet, 'cause if you wake up Ma, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

*****

The boy - no, _Desiree_ , she’s actually a girl -leads them to a sparsely furnished room where three little girls in faded dresses are playing in a corner with an assortment of dolls, who are all missing limbs.

“Where’s Jonas?” Harriet asks, studying the swamp-colored walls with distaste.

“I think he’s out doing a job for Jafar or something,” Desiree says absently, beckoning Uma towards a stool. “I’m pretty sure that he’s gonna get fired any day now though, since he keeps trying to cook the stupid parrot.”

Harriet snorts and Desiree studies Uma’s hair. “It’s fixable,” she proclaims, reaching into a pocket of her overalls and producing an orange comb. “I’m just going to comb it out before washing it, okay? Nia, go get me some shampoo and a bucket of water.”

“I’ll go with,” Harriet decides, taking the hand of one of the little girls, who is wearing a tattered black dress. “There’s no way Nia’s gonna be able to pick up that bucket.”

“I’m strong!” Nia protests, crossing her skinny arms and scowling up at Harriet.

“Sure, honey,” Harriet grins wickedly and walks out of the room, Nia trailing after her.

Desiree rolls her eyes but continues combing Uma’s hair. She’s much gentler than Ursula; instead of just dragging the comb through the knots, she actually takes the time to de-tangle the knot. When the knots slip free, Uma barely feels it.

“How did you learn how to do this?”

“Mama taught me,” Desiree replies, fingers working at a particularly stubborn section of hair. “Said that if I was gonna be a girl, might as well do it properly.”

“Seriously?” Uma asks, envy curling in her stomach. Ursula has never done anything like that for her. The most that she’s ever done is tell Uma to keep a knife in her boot, because people will fuck almost anything, especially little girls.

“Yeah,” Desiree finally gets the knot free and takes the comb out of Uma’s hair. “But I’m pretty sure it was mostly because she was too lazy to do all of our hair.”

“You’re better than Mommy anyways,” one of the girls, who is wearing a purple dress with a ragged hem, insists.

Desiree grins and ducks her head. “Thanks Piper,” she murmurs, walking over to the third little girl, who reaches her arms up to be lifted.

Piper stands up and walks over to inspect Uma. “Your hair is pretty,” she says, pointing at the turquoise and black curls.

“Thanks.”

“Who are you?”

“Uma.”

“Who’s your parents?”

Uma had no idea who her father is, nor does she particularly care, so she just says. “Ursula.”

“Like Mommy’s sister?” When Uma nods, Piper furrows her brow. “That means you’re my . . . niece?”

“Cousin,” Desiree corrects, walking over with the other girl in her arms. She casts Uma an embarrassed look. “If she’s bothering you, just say so.”

“She isn’t a bother,” Uma says awkwardly. She’s never had any younger siblings: she was the youngest of her mother’s children, and now she’s the only one left. The only experience she’s had with younger children is with Calista Jane, who Harry shoos away whenever she tries to follow them.

Harriet walks in, bearing the bucket of water and Nia on her heels. “Where do you want this?”

“Right here,” Desiree indicates a spot on the floor then turns to Uma with an apologetic look. “You’re gonna have to put your head in the bucket.

Uma hops off the stool, and then Desiree hands off the little girl to Harriet, who holds her like Desiree just handed her a bomb.

Uma lets her hair float inside the bucket as Desiree swirls shampoo into it and lathers her hair.

There is only the sound of water splashing inside the bucket and the soft whispers of Nia and Piper for a few minutes as Desiree washes Uma’s hair.

When Desiree finally allows Uma to take her head out of the bucket, her hair doesn’t stink of shrimp anymore and Uma has never felt so relieved in her entire life.

“We’ll let it dry out naturally,” Desiree squeezes out the excess water and leans back to inspect her handiwork. “What happened to it?”

Harriet tenses up and seems about to warn Desiree, but Uma beats her to it. “I may or may not have laughed at Mal, and she dumped a bucket of shrimp in my hair as revenge.”

Desiree blinks. “Well that’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

Harriet smirks darkly. “You obviously haven’t met her. The chick’s crazy and her mom’s even more batty.”

“Still,” Desiree touches Uma’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened to you, little cousin.”

Uma turns and stares up at Desiree’s genuinely concerned face, and feels a rush of something warm swoop through her chest.

Nia chimes in as well. “Sounds like a real bench.”

Harriet, Uma and Desiree all look at each other in disbelief before they all start laughing. Piper starts laughing as well, even though she has no idea what’s going on.

“What?!” Nia demands, turning red and scowling at them.

“Honey, did you mean 'bitch’?” Desiree asks, catching a breath as Uma tries to conceal her giggles behind her hand.

Nia looks confused. “What’s the difference?”

That sets Harriet off again, and she sinks down to the floor to let the girl crawl out of her arms before grabbing her sides as chortles shake her frame.

Desiree’s laughing as well, though she’s also trying to pacify Nia as well, who keeps on insisting that it isn’t funny. Uma isn’t even trying to hide her laughter anymore, and Piper keeps on running around the room singing, “Bench bitch, bench bitch, bench bitch!”

They don’t stop laughing, even when Aunty Morgana bangs on the ceiling and bellows at them to shut their clams, or she’ll beat all of them.

As Uma snickers, it occurs to her that this is the first time she’s smiled since Mal dumped that bucket of shrimp on her yesterday, and the realization makes her smile even brighter.


End file.
